


Bright Moon

by team_cahir_5ever (smiling_elenilin)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Blood and Violence, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff with a bit of a plot tbh, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Nudity, Regis being a soft boi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24323404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smiling_elenilin/pseuds/team_cahir_5ever
Summary: Basically, this fic represent an excuse for me to use this concept of an OC I've had for a while and ship her with Regis because I love him. This story will deal with two individuals whom people would label as monsters finding comfort, solace, and understanding in each other and their adventures along the way.
Relationships: Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy/Original Character(s), Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. Dance under the moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Kai's full name is extra because I wanted it to. Here is a small pronunciation helper: 
> 
> Maaja : MAA-ya (as the English "ma"); 
> 
> Kaimana : Kaa-iy-MAA-Naa; 
> 
> Juhanna : Youhawna (the "w" is silent); 
> 
> Birgit: B EE R - g ih t.

The Moon was bright, the night was still. Or so some of the pretty poems and songs she knew began. And let it not be said Maaja-Kaimana Juhanna Birgit knew none! She was her father’s daughter, drawn to her parent’s songs and stories as a child. Often, her mother had scolded her dear husband for filling their youngest daughter’s head with too many stories, but never once had the fire-haired young woman renounced her art. She took great pride in her rich repertoire, which embraced a wide variety of songs, stories, and legends. Some brave hailing heroes of old, perishing in glorious battle, others indecent that caused timid maidens to blush. But, as time had revealed, she was no such maiden. 

The moon was bright, the night was still. Too still for her liking.

“You know,” she began, her melodious voice ringing of sorrow and regret, “When I was one of them, I was the first to throw a flower crown on my head and join the dances.” The festivities long died out in the distance. It was only a much needed sacrifice, one he would have not once asked of her. But, to her own mind, joining in the celebration of Belleteyn was a perilous misadventure. 

Sighing, Regis placed the flower crown he had taken to weaving for a time now on her red head. The frown of sorrow was soon traded for a smile, then a brief moment of laughter. He brought her to laugh when she wished not even to smile. He liked her smile. He liked her laughter. Her gesture was soon returned with a light smile of his own. Never once had he suspected, when they had met in their odd way, that he would come to weave not one, but two flower crowns and ponder on the symbolism of Beltane: rebirth, renewal, hope. He knew her liking for tall tales was not to be mistaken with naivete. Kai had learned, quite harshly, the ways of the world. It was beneficial for the heart and mind to celebrate life, though her hope had long waded. 

“Who is to say you should be deprived of the joy of reveling in life’s beauty?” the vampire asked tenderly, offering Kai the second crown of flowers, head bowed. She gave in to unspoken request, placing the flowers on Regis’ head. Whereas he had sat at her side in the grass, he now stood to his feet, straightening his pose as he extended a hand. “Mayhaps joining the main festivities may prove to be quite the great concern, however, this certainly must not mean you cannot celebrate at all, my dear Kai. May I have this dance?” 

As always, Kai could have not refused to dance, not when so gracefully asked by him. “That you may, Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy,” she answered, her tone significantly more cheerful than before. She had taken to calling him by his full name when she found her mood to be particularly romantic, though this had not come without painfully practicing uttering the whole name and, oh, let the challenging pronunciation not be forgotten, either! Kai had never once mocked the honourable, long name, though he had found endearing her many previously failed attempts of speaking it all at once and correctly, too. But, he would have been a liar to say he was not proud to hear her success. 

The Moon was bright, the night was no longer too still.  
Led by her song, they danced, celebrating life, rebirth, hope, newfound bonds. She sang and he hummed along. What began as a slow, graceful dance turned soon into merry leaping, louder singing, carefree laughter. And, of course, given no proper celebration was complete without a fine beverage to accompany it, he offered her a flask of mandrake. 

The sound of their laughter echoed still even after their dance was done. “We should dance again!” Kai laughed loudly, taking another gulp of the beverage. Her cheeks were warm, no doubt from both the effort of merry dance and the warmth spread by the drink shared between herself and the vampire. Truly, she could have no longer regarded herself as entirely the same as those who danced around the fire, yet, for a moment, she forgot the pain this thought had been causing her. Pure merriment glimmered, for the first time since they had met, in her dragon-like green eyes. Regis took note of this glimmer. He liked her smile. He liked her laughter. In truth, he liked seeing her dance, leaping as she attempted to find breath for her songs as well. 

And they danced again. This time, Regis joined Kai in her singing, even though the interpretations they knew differed in some very particular parts where the wording was concerned. This difference was not an impediment to their private Belleteyn celebration. Kai complimented Regis’ surprisingly pleasant singing voice. She took his arm, drawing him in another spiral of leaping and singing and shouting, all until the fiery young woman needed to breathe. 

The Moon was bright, the night was only the proper sort of still. 

They gazed into each other’s eyes, his glowing in the dark, much alike hers. And they laughed, emptying the mandrake flask. “I take this was no simple walk under the moonlight,” Kai noted. Regis had been the one to propose they walk together that night, he the one to have brought them to the hilltop from where they celebrated, in their own way, life and renewal and, perhaps, strengthened hope as well. “Your guess is entirely correct,” the vampire confessed nonchalantly, “I remembered this celebration for you have often mentioned how much joy it has brought you in the past, before the event which you, my dear, deem unfortunate. I thought I should have tried my odds! After all, it is only so wonderful to see you smile, to share in your lively dancing. You…” 

Kai drew closer to Regis, gently pushing her finger against his lips. She had learned, in time, he most certainly loved the sound of his own voice. Many a time she had allowed him to ramble, listening to his lecture with genuine interest. There was much, she found, to learn from him. Though there had been times when she had doubted it, Regis felt he, too, could have learned from her. She listened to his lectures, gently laughed at his complaints about the poor manners and habits of humanity, even asked him to elaborate on some subjects. And he had begun requesting more and more songs from her. Now, however, she clearly wished for silence. 

“You did this. For me.” It was not a question. The realisation moved her. “We could’ve been seen. We could…” It was Regis, this time, the one to ask for silence, mirroring her earlier gesture. “What could have been is not important or in any way relevant, Kai,” he said. His tone was firm, though, even then, it did not lack gentleness. “Yes, I have prepared this moment for us to share because you were obviously crushed by your sadness, by the discovery of the changes within you and their consequences upon the progress of your life. I cannot claim to fully understand all which you have experienced, however, I believe it is only fair to be as bold as to claim I can understand some of your troubles.” 

Regis reached to cup her face in his hand. His touch was careful, slowly placed, so tender, the most tender she had ever felt, and it came from a vampire. Yet, truth be told, she had long learned the value of human touch, too, even witnessed some of its own disastrous consequences. Monstrosity was, perhaps, not a matter of one’s nature as much as a matter of one’s choices, actions, and decisions. When she had killed, she had killed to defend, but murder was a monstrous act in the eyes of some. With Regis, she had begun to feel as a woman again for the first time since the curse had been cast upon her. 

The dragon-eyed woman wrapped her arms around the vampire, her embrace tight. Regis held her, allowing her to linger in his arms for as long as she liked. He would have let her stay. Always. “I never thought,” she mumbled, “That breaking into another’s home would ever gain me their embrace.” While Kai laughed, Regis frowned. “You did not precisely break into my home,” he corrected her, “You were running. You were terrified, shaking, scratched, bruised, wounded even. Most clearly hunted, if not worse. I know only too well the sentiment humanity has shared, for centuries, for those who are different. I could have not, in good conscience, cast you out. To be truthful to you, I am glad I have not.” 

He leaned in to kiss her. He could have kissed her a thousand times and never tire of her lips. He could have held her a thousand times and not once wish for her to ever release him from her grasp. He could have recited to her all the poetry he knew and not once would he have wished for the poems to end as each verse lured her into a smile. He felt even inspired to try his hand at some of his own verses for his dragon-eyed girl. It was true, one of the men she had killed as to protect a woman from being molested had cursed her, cast this torment upon her as to punish her. But, to him, she was no beast, no nightmarish abomination. She was a passionate young woman who had sought to protect another, to do a good deed, which had backlashed at her. To him, she was unique, beautiful, fiery, his Kai. He would have taken all of her pain upon himself, only to know she would have smiled more. She deserved to smile more. 

She returned his kiss, arms around his neck as she pressed her body closer to his. He felt her breasts crush against his chest as she held him tighter, closer. She could have kissed him endlessly. She could have sung to him all the music the world knew and, when it would end, she would begin anew for she knew her song soothed his mind. In his arms she wished to linger not for a brief moment, but an entire eternity. A long time, said a distant thought, yet what was eternity to lovers for whom this golden moment was captured in a lifetime? What was eternity when it was captured in a sigh, a kiss, a tender embrace, a word? What was an eternity to the lone wanderer who had long walked alone before? To her, he was no bloodthirsty fiend. He was her Regis, her heart, her world, the only one allowed to lecture her, the one and only. And she knew no song fit to express the love, bright and burning, which she had grown to feel for him. She would have sung all the songs only for him to find peace more often. He deserved to find his peace more often. 

Giggling, they ended the kiss only as to breathe. He smiled fully now, fangs shown. He needed not fear judgement from her. She smiled, too, until her face hurt. She wished for time to cease its breath only for their moment to be spread into infinity, them frozen on their hilltop, under moonlight, embraced as two young lovers finding each other for the first time, though it was most certainly not their first time. Yet, each time they embraced and kissed felt as the first. She was as taken with him as he was with her, all a cycle of smiles, kisses, exchanged words of love. He was her home. She was his, too. 

As they descended from the hill, hand in hand, Kai merrily leaped and sang again, her skirt twirling as she moved. He watched her, though did not once lose the grip on her hand as to prevent her from stumbling or falling. Her merriment was refreshing to see, and Regis wished nothing else than to commit this moment to memory, to memorize her entirely so he would later immortalize her fiery passion in his verse. She was truly beautiful, mesmerizing: long, red hair a mess, her careful braids now nearly ruined. Her cheeks were red, her smile wide. Tiny beads of sweat on her brow, her boots filthy, but she cared not for that, or for any other insignificant matter. He knew it then: he would do all he could to offer her more moments such as this one, let the stars witness his silent vow. 

“You’ve grown awfully quiet,” she teased him with a nudge of her elbow. 

Torn from his musings, Regis put an arm around her waist. “I was simply content to watch you, my dear. The sight of you so engaged in the moment was splendid. I could have not brought myself to interrupt.” 

“That is unfortunate.” She put an arm around him, too, as they were headed...home. 

“You were expecting me to interrupt you.” Regis arched an eyebrow upon noticing the mischievous smirk on her lips. He was no youthful boy born only a night ago. He knew, of course, Belleteyn was an occasion on which some preferred a most particular way of celebrating. He was no stranger to the ways of physical relations. To him, love-making was sacred, beautiful, beyond comparison. Therefore, he had not once pressed the matter with his beloved. All the beauty of the carnal union was stripped away when one took advantage of another’s vulnerability only for pleasure’s sake. Regis was firm on his principle of not allowing such great vileness to occur, at least not in his own affairs.

He took her hands into his own. For a brief moment, he appeared grave. “Do you truly believe I have not taken note of your teasing? Or how you wish to capture me entirely with your voice, o ravishing siren?! Have you forgotten?” Regis placed his hand on her chest. “I can sense your heart beating.” His finger wandered on her low lip. “Hear your breath, sense it, too.” Their glowing eyes met. Merriment was mingled with the flames of profound, wanting love. “But, my dear,” he spoke gently as he stroked her hair, “My intent has not been, not even once, to lull you to my bed this very night.” She wished to speak, but Regis placed a finger on her lips. Again. “Kai, you are not merely a beautiful woman. To me, you are the most beautiful.” Adoration shone in his eyes. He resumed holding her hands, kissing them. “Nothing would bring me greater joy than to offer you the pleasure of our union, to touch you, hold you, give myself fully to you. I love you. And it is precisely for this reason I ask you that we wait until a more fitting time. I wish for you to find yourself in the proper state of mind and heart to consent.” 

Kai fell silent. He needed no words to sense she was not precisely delighted to hear his response. Of course, another man might have been elated the opportunity so easily presented itself, but not Regis. He valued Kai, his respect and care for her well-being too profound for him to let their little celebration be concluded with reckless love-making. It was not the sort of love-making to bring any genuine relief or pleasure. It would have been selfish on his part, too selfish. He could have not brought himself to hurt her or use her in that sort of way, the thought alone enough to stir a profound sentiment of disgust. 

“I understand.” The dragon-eyed woman gave him a smile. “It’s true, I want to be with you in all the ways known to me. With you, I forget how scary it all can be. I thought - no, felt - it was only so right. But, I also understand your hesitation. I don’t want to force you into that which you don’t desire, Regis.” She shook her fiery head. “Forgive me.” 

“There is nothing to forgive,” Regis reassured Kai, tenderly pressing his lips against her forehead. At another time, he thought. He had lived for so long. He had known the passion and eagerness of youth, in all of its aspects. Passion was a holy fire, a fire to have brought light in the deepest darkness, but also a fire to have ruined, burnt, turned everything to ashes. He could have not blamed her for being passionate, eager, wanting. No. Her sentiments towards him honoured him, thus Regis found he was blessed to know she loved him so she found herself willing to delve deeper into their union. Yet, it was not the time. He was beyond relieved and grateful she understood. He wished for nothing else than their first time of reveling entirely in newfound love to be right, proper for them both. 

They walked the remaining distance to the cottage, his arm lovingly placed around her as they paced under the dancing moonlight. He felt at peace. He found himself pondering on what he must have done to be so blessed to have found her. Perhaps, it mattered not. All that mattered was the blessing had been given to the both of them. On their way back, she hummed one of the songs she had sung during their dancing, one that told a story of love between a knight and a maiden. She had told him, once, during an evening when they had laid down together, that she had wanted to be a knight. Regis had taken to providing comfort when the monthly pains tormented her, preparing her tea, bringing her blankets, keeping her as warm as he could so the delicate moments would pass as swiftly as possible. 

Once within the comfort of their now home, she tossed aside her boots, gesture which he did not approve of, though he remained silent. Regis was fairly adamant on the order in the home. Keeping everything organized kept his mind organized, too. He had grown so attached to the familiarity of a particular order it had taken time to adjust to a new presence in his life. Where he was ordered, Kai was truly chaotic. Even so, he did not mind her chaos. In truth, he wished not to depict a life without her chaos in it. 

Soothe the chaos, but do not silence her storm.

Kai’s clothes were tossed all around as she slipped in her nightgown, one of those which had been a gift from him, the white one with floral motifs. “Will you tell me a story?” she requested, a pout formed on her lips. Regis could have not brought himself to deny her. He would tell her all the stories she sought to hear. They laid down, the only glow in the chamber radiating from their eyes. “Which one would you like?” Regis asked, “I could tell you many stories. I fear your request ought perhaps be a tad bit more specific.” She giggled, turning as to lay on her side to gaze into his eyes, a smile lingering on her lips. “Tell me the story about the lone wanderer and his beloved kissed by flames.” 

It was the story she loved best, one Regis had adapted to their own. He first had woven this tale when he had first confessed his heart’s will. He touched her face as if to assure himself she was truly there, that she was not a fabrication of yearning. He felt her skin, her presence. He heard her breath calm slowly. She was true. And she smiled. He liked her smile.


	2. Memories of dread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this part, I've decided to provide more of a background for my sad girl and also a glimpse into how they met. It's mostly a flashbacks thing, plus some additional details. Also, I decided Regis has a cat because, in all honesty, why not?

Three men surrounded the woman. Her smile faded, her sweet words no longer enough to persuade them she was merely interested in the colourful shawls sold in that part of the market. Maaja-Kaimana Juhanna Birgit carefully watched, the sight of the well-dressed woman soon capturing her attention. Discomfort was evident on her features as two armed men alongside one in an elegant robe surrounded her, cornering her in a quiet alley. Swords were not yet drawn. The young woman sought to scream, but a gloved hand soon covered her painted red lips. It did not take long for the redhead to come to the painful conclusion the three men would firstly have their sick ways with her, regardless of their later intent or plans.

Her twin blades were drawn, a fire in her gray eyes as she walked towards the men. She wore high leather boots, a leather chestpiece and, underneath, a fine white shirt, sewn by her own hands. Her black skirt matched her black leather jacket, but her dark brown belt was assorted with her boots. Fiery, long hair was captured in a long braid. Her leather gloves were red. She liked the colour red. "Leave her be!" Maaja firmly ordered, her tone leaving no possibility for interpretation. The men laughed, turning to face her. She was not among the tallest of women, though her muscular thighs and arms were indication enough her fine clothing did not adorn a fragile figure. "A saviour, aren't you?" the robed man said with a mocking smile. His smile was soon traded for a firm expression. "This doesn't concern you. You have only one chance to leave and we'll pretend we didn't see a tiny woman threatening us. Or perhaps you'd like to buy yourself something pretty-" 

"I said," the redhead snarled before he could finish speaking, "Leave her be!" The robed man arched his eyebrows, hands raised. It was all a mockery. They had no intention to surrender or leave the woman be. The other two drew their blades as well, walking towards the fiery-haired woman. "You had your chance," one of the armed men growled, "Now, it's wasted." 

A defiant smile was spread on her lips. "I spit on your chances." 

They attacked, but she was as agile as a cat, her movements fast. Though her father had been the first to teach her how to wield a blade, it had been her uncle the one to show her the dirty tricks. She ducked, parried, danced with the men in armor. It all soon turned to a blood bath, the armed men falling, one by one. Their blades had scratched her, but she felt only the rage against the monsters she had slain. There was only one left. He fell the most swiftly. She allowed him a last word before ending him, too. It was only so courteous. 

In her nightmares, there was a great black wyvern scorching all those who stood in its way. There was a fiery-headed woman, too. The wyvern and the woman were one and the same. 

*** 

"Regis?" 

"Hmmm?" 

She still wore her nightgown, sipping on her tea, whereas Regis sat in front of her, sketching her stern expression. He only gazed upon her as to memorize her features and immortalize them in his sketchbook. He had once immortalized her smile. But, alas, even when she was sorrowful she was beautiful, too. 

"Why do you love me?" 

"Where should I begin?" he mused aloud. The sound of the coal on paper was the only sound for a while as he focused to draw her hair. He liked her hair in the morning, when it was all disheveled and flowing on her shoulders. She was his muse, the pleasant tingling underneath his skin her presence caused inspiring him to begin his journey in art anew. And what could have any artist desired more than for his muse to smile at all times? He liked her smile. "You see, Kai, love is a notion one can never properly define. How could the mind comprehend such a vast notion? Love comes in many forms and it can inspire one to ascend to greatness, or to bring about ruin around themselves. I can certainly say I have witnessed the duality of love, I have felt it, too." He set aside his sketchbook and the coal, wiping his fingers clean with a cloth. Regis had been young once, and the sort of pleasures he had indulged in had proven to be destructive. Five decades of meditation had been enough time for him to decide he would never again allow passion to consume him so. But, with her, it was a more peaceful sort of sentiment that he found. 

"The love I find in you, though I cannot define it," Regis continued, gazing upon her with a smile, "Is the sort of love to bring peace, calm. I believe I have not merely fallen in love with you, my dear." He watched as she sipped on her tea, green dragon eyes meeting his gaze. "I have found a sense of home in you. I cannot tell you why precisely I love you, however. I need not seek a reason why. I only need to know my heart belongs to you." 

He offered her his sketchbook, so she could have admired his most recent depiction of her. Where she saw a monster, he saw a beauty. Yet, truth be told, Regis had not yet witnessed her transformation. She recalled her first and one and only thus far with dread. Again had Kai seen men who sought to abuse those whom they were sworn to defend. Wrath had unleashed her curse. Where there had stood a woman some men defied, in whose face they laughed, a creature of nightmare had risen, its roar spreading terror through an entire town. The creature had taken flight. When she had been returned to her human form, she was laying down on the forest floor, scratched, bruised, naked, and afraid. Every bone in her body had hurt. It had felt as if her whole body had been torn from the inside out, then the pain had faded away. It had taken a while for her to understand: the dying robed man she had murdered had cursed her. And the curse had not been the mere gibberish of a dying one. 

In Regis' sketchbook, there was a young woman who smiled, brushed and braided her hair. A woman who sang, cheerfully dancing as she did. He was the first one to call her Kai, many others having preferred to call her Maaja. Though, truth be told, she no longer knew who or what she was. The woman in the sketches felt so foreign and strange to her, but she was the woman Regis saw. Regis loved this woman, he loved _**her**_. Would he have loved her still if he had seen the terror she had stirred? 

***  
Her raiment had not resisted the transformation. Each bone in her body had hurt when the beast had emerged. The ground underneath her skin was cold, unbearably so. It was a bright night, though she knew she shivered not from the cool air upon her bare skin. The curse. The damned curse! Her blood was frozen in terror, dread for herself as the memories of the wyvern were returned to her. Screams. Ashes. Fire. Roars. And wrathful soldiers shouting orders. 

She stood to her trembling feet at once, supporting her weight against a tree. It all hurt. Maaja began walking slowly, attempting to think through the haze of her raging thoughts and recent memories. She could have not known where she was precisely, only that she was cold, that she needed to find a way to safety. Safety, wherever would that have been. Given she was a monster now, no establishment was safe for her. She knew only too well how humanity regarded those who were unlike themselves. 

Slowly and trembling, she paced around. In the far distance, it appeared to her she saw flickering light. It was too perilous to come close to the light, but Maaja was naked, cold, hungry, and afraid. Only for a while, the now wyvern-woman thought. She would take only what she would have needed, then be gone. There was no hope for her to rely on the kindness of the heart of whoever might have dwelt suspiciously close to a cemetery. There was no hope to trust at all. 

The moon shone bright, too bright. At the very least, its silvery light was a decent guide through the darkness. She began to run, rocks and branches hurting her bare feet, yet she wished only to close the distance between herself and the lights as quickly as her now hurt feet would have carried her. Whoever must have dwelt in the suspicious place must have been some odd folks, or so Maaja concluded. A lone cottage, near a cemetery, placed at a certain distance from towns, villages, traveled roads. A cold chill kissed her spine as she approached the curious dwelling. 

The flickering light came from two bat-shaped lamps placed outside the door. A black cat was sleeping at a window sill. Maaja listened carefully. There was no evident sound of steps, neither did she hear voices. Good. It was very good. She would take only what she would need for her journey to wherever safety might have been for a monster like her. Slowly, the wyvern-woman opened the door and stepped inside. More lamps and candles cast their gentle light in the surprisingly fine decorated cottage. 

A smell of herbs assaulted her nostrils. An impressive collection of books and scrolls was displayed on shelves placed against the wall facing her. Turning her head to the right, she took note of various bottles and vials, all carefully labeled. Whoever dwelt there had, perhaps, the most beautiful handwriting she had ever seen. Only her mother wrote similarly, her writing truly a delight to gaze upon, whereas Maaja’s own was, at times, messy and unorganized. The bottles and vials had their own half of another row of shelves, whereas various herbs had been placed nearby, some dried, others only partly dried. Some were fresh, too fresh for her liking. It meant that the cottage’s owner could have been close by. Odds were against her. 

On the left side, there was a door as well, partly open. Through the small opening, the redhead caught the glimpse of a bed that surely did not match the ambiance of a cottage in the middle of damned nowhere. But, where there was a bed, clothing must have been, too. The woman sought to walk towards the room on her tiptoes, as not to awake the cat sleeping by the window. She bit her lip so as not to wince in pain from her hurt soles and the other bruises and scratches on her body. 

The entrance door was soon opened, light steps heard behind her. She fell from her feet, turned to face the newcomer, hands hastily placed on her bare body as to cover herself from his eyes. His eyes glowed in the half-darkness, the glow being no harbinger of merry tidings. _Fool!_ , she admonished herself in her thought. Trembling, she withdrew towards the other door. As she felt her back pressed against a cold wall, she huddled against the wall, her knees pressed to her chest. 

Regis would have been, on common circumstances, offended by a thievery attempt on his very home. Thievery was an indecent act, a crime punishable by law. He had long overcome the desires for petty punishments. He had taken note of the previously opened main door, and it had irritated him. But, when he gazed upon the frightened woman curled in fear against the wall, his irritation was replaced with a pang of pity in his heart. He took note, too, of the unusual green of her eyes, the split pupils, the fear in them. She was different, too. 

“I will not hurt you, young miss,” he attempted to soothe her, setting his basket of freshly picked herbs aside. His hands were opened, raised to her sight so as to emphasize his intent was not to harm her, but, perhaps, help her instead. He offered a kind, full smile to show he was not one of those whom he suspected she must have fled from. “You are afraid,” Regis softly said, gaze softened, “It is a most common response to events which are unknown to us. I see you are hurt. Those scratches and bruises will need to be cleaned, tended to so that infection may be prevented. I understand this is all terribly frightening for you, miss, however, I promise you, I mean you no harm.” 

She simply gazed into his eyes, shaking. 

“Oh, of course!” Regis admonished himself aloud, “To where here has my mind wandered? You are cold!” He made haste to pass through the door, immediately bringing her a long, light shirt. “You may have one of mine. Of course, it may be quite large for you, but, you see, I have not once thought to have guests in here, let alone one as distinguished as yourself, miss. You need not fret, though!” The vampire rambled in an attempt to brighten the spirits between them, “I should find you suitable clothing soon. But, first: your cuts. If you are so kind, young miss, I would request that you allow me to help you to the bed. You cannot sit on the floor. It is cold. Besides, the current position of your body will be highly unpleasant for your spine. In other words, you will soon experience back aches, which we would wish to prevent as well, would we not?” 

Maaja simply nodded, allowing the seemingly kind stranger to help her to the bed so she may have sat in a more comfortable position. Not too long afterwards, the vampire returned, carrying cloth and water. He rolled his sleeves above his elbows, soaking the cloth in his hand only enough as to clean his unexpected guest’s hurt skin. “This may cause a stingy sensation. I will try to bring it to be as painless as I can, though these appear as recent to me.” He frowned, examining her as he began to gently, slowly, carefully clean her hurt feet. She grimaced, shivering under his touch, her lips still remaining sealed. “I know,” the vampire sighed sadly, “You most likely fear me, too. It is, as I have previously noted, a natural response. I only meant to tell you, through my gesture of revealing myself to you, that I understand the fear and confusion you possibly are experiencing as we speak, miss.” 

“You see,” Regis rambled, again, as he dipped the cloth in the water to continue his work, “The humankind views those such as you and I as monsters. I am only too familiar with the contempt they harbour for us. I have lived for so long now I should know better than attempt to understand them. Some of their habits truly cause me nothing save for a sentiment of great, profound repulsion!” The barber-surgeon applied a soothing balm to the cuts on her foot, his moves tender and precise. “Even so, I cannot help but to come to the inevitable conclusion that, whether it is to my liking or not, this world has devised its own ways, independent of my will. Their ways cannot, sadly, be changed. Yet, as far I am concerned, you will be safe here, for as long as you need to stay. Before seeing you, I assumed someone must have attempted to rob me. Robbery is so very rude! Therefore, I ought to mention: should you find yourself in need of anything, all you must do is simply ask.” 

As he finished the cleaning and the careful spreading of the balm, Regis carefully bandaged her feet. The young woman’s shivering had ceased, yet the dread in her eyes had not faded away. She could have not brought herself to speak, despite how desperately she wanted to. She caught herself wishing, suddenly, to tell him everything about the men she had murdered, the curse, how she had instilled terror in the hearts of innocents, how she feared the beast would, somehow, some day, gain full reign over her and hurt those who could have not defended themselves from it, from _**herself**_. 

But, she found no words. She found no words to express she was not, in truth, afraid of him as much as she was afraid of herself. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she began to weep, sobbing bitterly. _I’m a monster, a damn beast, don’t you see?_ , Maaja wanted to scream, _Why are you so kind to me? Why do you care? Who are you?_

She never spoke her thoughts aloud that night. Regis simply sat, at a respectable distance from her so as to avoid startling her further and watched her, a profound sorrow washing over him. _What has been done to you?_ , he wondered, dreading to think of all possibilities. After all, he had returned home that night to find a young woman, naked, bruised, and terrified in his home, a woman so terrified she could have not even spoken to him. 

***

Kai closed the sketchbook, gently setting it aside as she finished her tea. In his sketches, Regis had not omitted the details of her eyes. He often said she was beautiful, the most beautiful he had ever seen or met. Perhaps a monster was no longer a monster when one dared love the monster. Then, there was the conflicting truth of the kindness he had so effortlessly given to her, beginning from the night they met, when the Moon was bright and the night was not still. Regis would have, without a doubt, been hunted, too. He would have been called names. Who was to know? After all, humankind had taken to the habit of throwing rocks, too. Yet, the Regis she saw before her, the Regis she knew and loved was far from what she would have perceived as a monster. Perhaps, in his eyes, it was the same for her. 

“You see,” she said, standing from her chair to walk towards him, “You are my home, too.” The wyvern-woman straddled the vampire’s lap, cupping his face into both her hands. Regis wrapped his arms around her, stroking her back as he listened, his attention most certainly captured. His hands never once wandered to the most intimate places of her body. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me, yet I still wonder what have I done to deserve it, to deserve you.” Kai kissed the tip of his nose. Her gesture brought Regis to smile. “I remember you once told me,” the barber-surgeon began, “Your father taught you kindness is a freely given gift. If a reward is to be expected, then, perhaps kindness takes another form. Your father was a wise man, my dear. I never once have considered asking you for any sort of repayment. Witnessing as you grow and heal has been - always will be - the only reward I would ever dare to hope for. As coincidence must have had it, we have found love along the way. Now, this, too, is a gift beyond anything that can be measured in material gain, would you not agree, Kai? After all-” 

The redhead leaned in to interrupt his ramblings with a loving, passionate kiss, burying her hand in his raven-black hair. He moaned into the kiss, his embrace tightened around her as she lightly tugged at his hair. There she was, his ravishing siren, the only one allowed to interrupt him, the one and only. When they had celebrated Belleteyn together, he had learned of how bold she could have been. Never once had he questioned she would grow bold and wanting again. And there were times when he was captured by her fire as the flames embraced him, the sort of flames he had not felt in a very long time. 

A meow was soon heard close by. Minodora gazed upon Regis and Kai, silent judgement in the feline’s eyes. They both chuckled. The black cat, Regis’ companion, was surely the most vocal when the time for her meal drew near. “It seems I must leave you briefly, my dear,” Regis laughed, “I fear it can suffer no delay.” The cat meowed once again, louder this time. “Yes, Minodora, my dear, right away!” Another meow. Kai laughed, standing to her feet as to let Regis attend to the needs of their furred companion. As the vampire walked, he gently admonished Minodora in the characteristic fatherly voice he assumed when speaking to her, noting how she had grown to interrupt his moments with Kai at the most inappropriate times. For a moment, the wyvern-woman watched, with a smile, as Regis prepared Minodora’s meal, conversing with the feline regarding rude interruptions. 

Truly, she could have wished for no other to be her home.


End file.
